


Act no.1 - Vodka

by LinGravior



Series: Intoxicating Series [1]
Category: Whose Line Is It Anyway? RPF
Genre: Drunken Flirting, First Time, M/M, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-24 22:48:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9790586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LinGravior/pseuds/LinGravior
Summary: Their relationship was always messy, confused and searing mixture of bantering and wanting. Will they eventually find out what kind of companionship they are able to maintain? A first part of my firts series about clashing and coupling of Gregory and Jeffrey, usually involves light drugs or alcohol, because hey, it is a story about Greg Proops and Jeff Davis (definitely not abstinents, are they? ;)) ).





	

**Act no.1 – Vodka**

Summer, 2000

“Hey Greg, you came to see me? I. am. so. flattered. honey,” Ryan sing-sang, grinning as he saw his colleague run through the corridors of ABC studios. Ryan was wearing his usual taping clothes - baggy, light blue shirt, sandy brown pants and his face was covered in thick stage make-up – Greg was sure taping was about to start soon.

“You wish, sweetie, you wish,” Greg purred in sweet voice, patting Ryan’s cheek – he did that every time he said something sarcastic to him, “I forgot my wallet in here yesterday. That bitch receptionist almost restricted me from my own fuckin’ room. ‘I need to see your ID, sir’ problem. Thanks God manager knew me from TV,” Greg was again grumpy, everything back to normal.

“If you’d thought less about sex and booze and more about world around you-“ Ryan shrugged his shoulders.

“Sex and booze IS a world around me,” Greg snickered.

“True, guess I forgot who I was talking with. By the way, today’s the first taping of that new, young and shiny. I think he’ll be good.”

“Yeah? You talked with him? What’s he like?” Spark in the eye and slightly raised left eyebrow. Greg was truly curious.

“Quite – quirky, that’s as accurate as it gets. I think you’ll like him. I told him to come with us tonight, hope you don’t mind. He looked like a lost puppy, I think he’ll appreciate a bit of amusement.”

“If he doesn’t mind the company of aging, cynical comedians,” Gregg shrugged his shoulders, “I’ll go get that wallet, you should go too, before Dan goes full-berserk-OCD -with-fuckin’-God-complex-grumpy-Brit mode about your lateness.”

“Guess you’re right. See you later?”

“Definitely. No chance I would miss the opportunity to get inebriated with you, goofs,” Greg answered and rushed towards his changing room.

* * *

 

With a wallet safely sitting in his pocket, Greg stayed in the studio for a little longer, curious about his new colleague. He tried to be as invisible as possible, hanging behind tech and camera men, Dan didn’t quite like extra people around the stage.

_Fuck that control freak._

“One minute, get in those damn seats!” Loud, squeaky voice from the other side of the studio. Dan didn’t have a nice day. _Like he’d ever had a good day._ Greg instinctively made himself even smaller.

Finally, he got to see the new guy. Ryan was right - he really looked like a lost puppy – and Greg liked him indeed. Jeff reminded him of himself, fifteen, maybe twenty years ago. _What a fuckin’ egocentric bastard you are, Greg._ Spiky haircut, weirdly knotted tie and deep violet shirt, balancing just on the edge of tacky, sassy and hot as hell, careful enough not to fall on either side.

Taping started, Greg could see the change in young man’s face – he was lost puppy no more. Rather attention whore with incredibly sweet sense of humour. Greg raised an eyebrow, when Jeff served yet another edgy and very inappropriate, but still perfectly timed and fitting joke. _The boy is really good._ He was standing there almost an hour, simply watching his acting, amazed by his ability to react just as quickly as Colin or Ryan, and singing just as good as Wayne, before Dan’s voice, soaking with that oh-so-irritating British accent, shouted something about a twenty minutes break. Ryan probably got way too annoyed by their first hoedown and made that bitchy pissed-off face that was scaring everyone around, even ice queen Dan.

 _Maybe this is the right time to disappear._ After all, he wasn’t even supposed to be here until tomorrow. He sneaked around Dan and headed towards the exit door.

 _Cig would be nice_. No chance he’ll smoke in his car.

Outside it was hot as hell, L.A. in summer was never different. He rolled up sleeves of his blue shirt, unfastened his tie and stuffed it in the pocket of dark jeans. He tapped out a cigarette and started to pat his pockets to find a lighter.

“Need me to light your fire?” young, cheerful voice, right behind his back. Greg’s lips curled up in a smile and he turned to a newcomer. “Careful, or I’ll take your offer seriously, mister Davis,” Greg sneered and leaned closer to Jeff’s lighter. A second later, hot and dry Los Angeles air got mixed up with acidic blue smoke.

“Without suit, you look different,” Jeff pointed out, quietly. His overdone confidence he showed a few moments ago was gone. Greg could feel his insecurity on the tips of his fingers.

“Yeah, well, it is not all that soft and comfy, is it,” Greg snickered and pointed his head towards Jeff’s suit.

“It’s not, but I like it anyway.”

“It gives some extra confidence, heh?”

“Like you would know something about it,” shy smile on Jeff’s lips. Greg gave him a questioning look.

“You’re right. I’m perfect from bottom to the top, even with no tie,” Greg sing-sang, cracking Jeff into laughter. He liked that sound. Maybe a bit too much. He drew from his cigarette and then added: “speaking of perfect, you act real good. It’s been quite a time since I saw someone bright AND well-singing.”

“Thanks. Will you come tonight?” Jeff asked, contended grin sitting on his face.

“For sure. What else to do here in L.A. than drinking?”

“Smokin’ overpriced pot, I guess,” Jeff grinned, innocent face of a little boy. Greg tittered, pleased spark appeared in Jeff’s eyes.

“Davis! Where the HELL are you?!” Dan’s voice resonated through the air. He was far away, but Greg could still see Jeff’s whole body jerking when he heard his name.

“You should go. His majesty Patterson is no to be disrespected,” Greg snorted and stubbed out the cigarette. A small bunch of reddish sparkles appeared, as the cigarette hit the ground.

“Yeah, the comedy awaits,” Jeff threw the cig bud away, annoyed by that sudden disturbance, “See you tonight.”

“See you,” Greg nodded, smiling lightly. He could hardly wait till the evening.

* * *

From the moment he entered the bar, Greg’s senses were attacked frontally.

Pumped-up music.

Dense cigarette smoke, acidic and stifling.

Heat from the crowd of dancing bodies.

Alcohol fumes, everything from beer to White Russian.

Greg loved it, a pure essence of short, sweet life. He jostled through the mass of drunk people to their usual table and sat on unoccupied bar stool. Ryan, Colin and Jeff were already there.

“Hey Greg, late as usual. You’ve been combing your hair for so long?” Good-hearted teasing from Ryan, Greg felt like home. This is where he belongs. Being with Jen is nice, but so tiring sometimes. Thanks God for this.

“Yeah, well, you know, not everyone can be as charming with such a little effort as you, kitten,” smooth sarcasm is as natural for Greg as breathing, light patting on Ryan’s cheek is just effortless pendant to this mini improv scene of them two.

A little hint of confusion appeared in Jeff’s eyes, when he was watching their bantering. _Sweet_ , Greg thought. He seemed so innocent, even though Greg was sure as hell Jeff was much more than what met the eye, spoiled at the very core like himself.

“They’ve known each other for a whole eternity. This is normal,” Colin mumbled silently to Jeff, when he noticed his puzzlement as well. _Friendly, comforting Colin, with his big puppy eyes and thinning hair._ He loved that guy.

“Yeah, we’re all here like a large dysfunctional family, Jeffrey, you’ll get used to it,” Greg grinned brightly and noticed an empty glass in front of Jeff, “what do you drink, sweetie? This one will be on me.”

“Vodka with orange juice,” Jeff answered, still a bit shyly. At least compared to the bright and shiny on-stage Jeff.

“And you two wanna...?”

“I’ll have a beer- And Ryan as well,” Colin said, when seeing Ryan’s approving nod.

“Good. Will you help me carry the glasses, Jeffrey?” Greg asked with a wide smile. Consciously using his full name, he just felt an urge need to do so.

“Of course, Gregory,” Jeff countered, emphasizing the last word just a little bit, just like Greg anticipated. Their own mini scene is on.

Each of them took two glasses and fought their way to the bar, through the same essence of self-indulgence he was walking through a few minutes ago. He noticed Jeff’s hesitant, yet piercing looks in his direction. Confidence and insecurity melding in that young man in such a delightful way. A little human puzzle to solve. Or at least learn a thing or two about him.

“Vodka, neat, twice, and one orange juice, sweetheart,” Greg shouted in barman’s way, placing ten dollar note on the counter. The silent nod of a young bartender in answer.

“And beers-“ Jeff’s raised eyebrow and crooked smile revealed that Jeff already knew his intentions. Query was just _pro forma_.

“Guys won’t mind a little time on their own. Besides, it would be such a pleasure for me to drink one or five vodkas with you alone, Jeffrey.”

“In that case, cheers, Gregory,” that look was definitely too long. _Or maybe it wasn’t. Doesn’t matter now_. Greg raised his glass and toasted with Jeff.

“Cheers,” small smile, one burning gulp and two raised fingers, followed by another banknote.

“You know, you’re the only one who calls me that way. Even my own parents use the short version,” Jeff pointed out suddenly.

“You mind it?”

“No, not at all. You mind Gregory?”

“It is a bit unusual, but nice. I feel just a little bit more snobbish when being called that way.”

“Yeah. As if it was possible,” Jeff snorted. Greg raised an eyebrow in a way only he could do it.

“It is because of my hair. I am sure of it. I would look nicely mundane and boring without it being so curled up.”

“Nothing to do with all that sarcasm and weirdly-familiar nicknames,” Jeff replied briskly. Alcohol gave him courage. He was slowly becoming that confident guy from the stage, Greg didn’t miss it.

“Of course not. Really. A fucking accountant without this hair, just imagine me, behind that big, white monitor, in a small four on four feet cubicle, picture of my wife placed on cheap desk, framed in even cheaper frame, fingers running from one key to another, numbers becoming some other numbers in some jibbery-jabbery accountant voodoo order-” A sip from his glass tore the flow of words and thoughts. Jeff was watching him for a few moments, his eyes roaming up and down. Then comes a short head shake in disagreement.

“No, I can’t see the accountant. You are way too dominant for that. You wouldn’t be able to cooperate with all those dickheads managers. Teacher, more like. You have that look in the eyes.”

“I-know-everything-better-than-you look?”

“Rather blow-me-for-that-fuckin’-A-grade look.” Greg chuckled and sipped from a glass, then he leaned closed to Jeff's ear.

“I would never do that, kitten. You know, I would never have to offer A-grade to be blown. There would be a fucking queue for my small, shrunken dick in front of my door-“ another sip of vodka, “Speaking of students, you would look like one, if not for that spiky hair. You see, hair is important, Jeffrey.”

“And what do you think, Gregory. If being a student, would I be standing in that queue to suck on your dick?” _Fuck. A point to Jeffrey B. Davis_ , Greg thought. This was flirting, definitely. He was far to sober for this.

Another vodka down.

“I wouldn’t let you wait in that fuckin’ line, kitten,” silent murmur, Greg noticed slight dilatation of Jeff’s pupils as a result. Greg’s face was lit by smug smile. _A point to myself. Tie_.

Two raised fingers, along with a request for two beers was an unmistakable sign that the first scene of their own act had ended.

* * *

Greg’s world was spinning. Literally. One-vodka-too-much state of being. Jeff hung onto his arm, laughing loudly, absolute bliss in his hazelnut eyes. Colin and Ryan long gone, it was just him and little kitten Jeffrey.

Scene two had started.

“Wanna dance,” Jeff purred into his sleeve, giggling. Greg shook his head.

“I don’t. But feel free to do whatever you fuckin’ wanna do, Jeffrey.”

“You wanna watch? Fuckin’ voyeur you are, Mr. Proops,” Jeff’s speech became so slurred and his thought process so random that Greg could hardly tell, what he had just said. Or maybe it was due to Greg’s own inebriation. _Like it fuckin’ matters_.

“You bet I am, Mr. Davis. Go and get that ass moving. Old grumpy man likes the show.”

“Are you like that to every single tyro you have around? Because many would consider this a sexual harassment, Mr. Proops.”

“If anyone is sexual predator here, it’s definitely you, Jeffrey. You’ve been flirting since the first time.”

“Caught red handed. Now tell me, Gregory, is it working?” Jeff was now leaning against him heavily, Greg felt his breathing against his neck, fast, ragged. Jeff was drunk. Drunk and horny as fuck. _He is indeed just as spoiled as I am_. Greg cleared his throat and pulled Jeff a bit closer.

“How about you doing your dance for a grumpy ol’ man in private, Jeffrey?” Jeff’s longing gaze and loud swallow were the only answer he needed.

Scene three awaits.

* * *

He kissed like it would be the last thing he’ll ever do. Passionate, rough, wanting kisses, full of tongue and biting. Jeff’s musky, alcohol taste was making him moan by desire. Such a long time since he felt need this strong to touch an other man. They both stumbled at the threshold, leaning over the wall, hungrily touching and kissing. Greg’s expensive jacket fell to the floor, followed by Jeff’s one.

“Greg, I, don’t make me, please don’t make me wait,” Jeff stuttered, all drunk and horny, Greg wasn’t sure what more, and at the moment he frankly didn’t care.

“And what is it you want, Jeffrey, tell me,” Greg whispered against his lips. His world was still spinning, but right now, it was spinning around Jeff. Around his aroma, sensual mixture of tobacco, cologne and sweat, around his voice, playful and smooth, his heat, radiating from every single inch of that firm body. Greg grabbed his black t-shirt, pulling him even closer, rubbing his thigh against Jeff’s erection. Another rough kiss followed, then a long gaze into those wanting, slightly blurred hazelnut eyes.

You. I want you so, babe,” Jeff murmured incoherently under his breath, trapped in Greg’s arms, half smiling and looking just so damn hot and oh-so-fuckable. Greg was far behind the boundaries of his self-control - if he had any with this young man at all. 

“Anything for you, Jeffrey. Make yourself home,” Greg pecked him on a cheek lightly and rushed to his small bathroom, everything was suddenly so confusing. He hadn’t had enough time to make himself familiar with that room at all. Now, inebriated, it was no better. He grabbed some lotion from drawer, after long minutes of searching full of silent F-words, and hurried back. 

He stopped at a threshold of bedroom, startled by a sight in front of him.

_Oh sweet fuckin’ Lord, you gotta be kiddin’me-_

Greg had to laugh, shaking his head in disbelief, when he spotted the curve of Jeff’s body lying across his king-sized bed, sleeping, snoring quietly, shoes on, his erection still visible under a thin layer of his jeans. Hair was even messier than before, and his thin body somehow managed to occupy whole bed. _Nice job, Greg. You intoxicated our lil’ cute baby Jeffrey to oblivion._ When the laughter was gone, Greg inhaled deeply, leaned on a door frame – his balance had a weak moment – and watched him sleep for a few seconds. _He looks kinda cute like that, doesn’t he?_ Suddenly, Greg felt almost guilty for wanting him so badly only a few minutes ago. He shook his head shortly, disgusted by that sudden wave of sentiment, undid shoelaces of Jeff’s sneakers, placing his bare feet onto a bed and covered him with a blanket carefully. He put a glass of water on a nightstand along with two aspirins, wondering at which point exactly did he became a mother hen.

 _No luck for you tonight, ol’ man,_ Greg thought shortly, when he closed the door of his bedroom and fell onto his couch.

**Author's Note:**

> PS: I am sorry for any possible grammar mistakes - English is not my first language, unfortunatl. If some kind soul interested in doing beta-reads for me appears, I will be really, really grateful :))
> 
> PPS: I realised like two or three days ago that I posted a draft of next chapter by mistake - I've never been IT-kind-of-girl, I guess :D I deleted it and I'll repost the next chapter when it'll be finished, nice and shiny, I promise :)


End file.
